Strawberry Pastries
by TheLateNightStoryteller
Summary: Set one week after the events of 1x06 F.Z.Z.T. Fitz and Simmons go grocery shoppping together. Fitz wants to buy some strawberry pastries and Simmons struggles to explain to him why that is a bad idea. T for language (Just the H-word). After, Simmons decides to show Fitz how to make the real best strawberry pastries. Final chapter up, finally haha!
1. Chapter 1

This story takes place a week after the events of 1x06 F.Z.Z.T. Agents of Shield belongs to it's super awesome creators and ABC and Marvel.

Disclaimer: Cortexiphan is not real. Your food is not going to kill you. (Probably, what do I know? I've never met you're food.)

* * *

"Fitz no," Simmons said firmly, removing the box of strawberry pastries he had placed in the cart and reuniting it with it's twins on the shelf.

"Oh c'mon Simmons!" he protested. "I think I can chose my own food."

"Apparently you can't," she said absentmindedly examining a box of granola bars.

He frowned at her and returned the box to the cart.

"You aren't buying those," she insisted, taking them out again. "They are filled with cortexiphan."

He raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms stubbornly. "So? That sounds delicious."

"Do you know what cortexiphan is?" she demanded exasperatedly, putting down the granola bars and matching his pose.

"Food colouring? Some unnecessary additive the government doesn't want us to know about? Something you're making up to get me to eat more vegetables?" he guessed.

"Because, I am such a superb liar," she scoffed and rolled her eyes as he said the last one. "And me telling you other food is filled with dangerous substances is the only motivation that could possibly make you eat vegetables. That they are filled with essential nutrients to keep you healthy would never cross your mind."

"Simmons it's fine," he asserted, overlapping her final statement. "Stop worrying about me. I'm more likely to die getting shot by a bad guy than by eating a pastry."

She tilted her head and glared him a patronizingly. 'Of course I have to worry about you,' she thought, 'you make horrible decisions.'

She decided that, perhaps, he'd be more likely to make good ones if he had all the information.

"Cortexiphan is a large organic compound which can build up in your brain," she told him matter-of-factly, "and negatively effects motor function, memory and decision making. Like alcohol, it can pass through the blood-brain barrier. Rats given cortexiphan were six times more likely to develop Alzheimer's, dementia and psychosis. They also were four times more likely to develop cancer within their lifetime."

"Then why the hell would anyone put it as an ingredient in food?" he asked skeptically.

She shrugged and shook her head, "The hell if I know."

He appeared to consider what she had said for a few seconds.

"Still eating it," he declared, placing the box back in the cart.

"Uuhhg!" she exclaimed removing the box, "Fitz!"

"Simmons you don't understand," he complained, watching it longingly as it was returned to the shelf. "These are the best strawberry pastries. They are perfectly flaky and the strawberry filling is just right; not too tart and not too sweet. They're amazing."

"What does it matter how good they taste if they're going to kill you!?" she shot back, wondering how someone so intelligent could be so incredibly stupid sometimes. "You can have anything else in the store, anything! I'll even buy it for you, just please, please listen to me about the pastries."

His face set into a stubborn frown, eyes narrowed. "Do you remember how you said I saved your life last week? You told me I gave you hope when you didn't have any."

"Yes, of course, you were very brave. Thank you." she replied impatiently, not sure where he was going with this.

"And remember how I said you didn't owe me anything? I told you, 'that's just what we do, we look out for each other.'"

"Yes..." she answered slowly.

"Well I changed my mind," he informed her, "you owe me strawberry pastries."

Simmons burst into laughter, she couldn't help it, his argument was so ridiculous.

"It's isn't funny Simmons," he grumbled, looking offended. But it was.

He waited agitatedly for her to stop, tapping his foot and gazing around nervously to see if anyone was watching.

"So, you're saying," she managed when she could breath again, "that because you helped me stop an alien virus from turning my brain into a baked potato, I'm suppose to let you fill yourself up with poison which is going to destroy yours? Do you realize how absurd you sound?"

"Well...I...I mean..." he stammered, sounding slightly less confident.

"Here's me returning the favour," she declared. "I'll make you some less toxic strawberry pastries on the Bus, ones which won't irreversibly damage your internal systems. How does that sound?"

"But-" he began.

"Fitz please, just do this for me," she interrupted, uninterested in whatever other ludicrous argument he was about to put forth. "I don't want to lose you to strawberry pastries when we're fifty five. Everyone will be gathered around your tombstone, somewhere nice with lots of trees, and some estranged relative will ask me 'how did poor Fitz die so young? I thought he wasn't doing to bad, except for the secret agent thing-"

"They probably won't know I'm a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent," he interjected but a small smile had formed on his face and she could tell he was holding back a laugh.

She grinned back at him, "'Poor Fitz was doing so well," she continued, "he lived such a risk free life and always ate all his vegetables. What happened to him Simmons?' And then I'll have no choice but to shake my head sadly and reply 'strawberry pastries, strawberry pastries are what happened,' and they'll shake their head as well and reply, 'too many wonderful souls have been lost to the tyranny of strawberry pastries.'"

They had both erupted into giggling by the time she finished and people walking past with their groceries were giving them strange looks. Neither of them of them noticed though.

"Alright fine," he agreed, still chuckling, "I'll let you make me some of your own strawberry pastries."

"Excellent," she cheered brightly, "So glad you're finally thinking clearly."

"Well I was actually thinking about Skye," he said, surprising her.

"Skye?" she asked, confused. What did their friend have to do with strawberry pastries?

"She's always eating my snacks," he explained.

'You're always eating her snacks you mean,' she thought but she let him continue.

"And it's one thing for me to risk my life but let's say she found a box of the pastries in my stash-"

"She'd eat them and possibly get sick." Simmons finished.

"Yeah," he nodded, "and that would be another wonderful soul lost to the tyranny of strawberry pastries."

"We can't let that happen," she proclaimed.

"No we can't," he agreed, pushing the cart away from the shelf. "C'mon Simmons, let's go find some strawberries."

* * *

**Fun Background**

**Thank you!** to everyone who read, liked, or reviewed my other stories. You are all wonderful souls.

The Fringe reference in this story is cortexiphan. Cortexiphan (I have used this reference previously) is a drug used in the (fictional) series to give children super powers. (Though with mixed, sometimes horrible results.) It does affect the brain and it does kill adults who were not exposed to it as children so I thought it fit.

This is, like a number of my stories, a spinoff of the conversation in Audio Commentary. It is also based of a conversation I had with notapepper.

Don't worry, Fitz doesn't really think Simmons owes him anything, he just wanted pastries. They save each other's and their teammates save them (and vice versa) so often they know it's just how things are.

I may write another chapter in which Simmons actually makes the strawberry pastries (and not so spoiler: of course they are better than the boxed ones!)

I got inspiration to write parts of this by looking up quotes by Simmons and Fitz (yay internet). Simmons storytelling ability was based off her creative cover story in T.R.A.C.K.S. (Does anyone know why the tittle is an acronym?)


	2. Chapter 2

"Count yourself lucky," Simmons told Fitz as she lifted the bag of flour onto the counter with a slight thud. "This is an old, secret family recipe and I can only share it with one other person, one other non Simmons person of course." she laughed. "Because it's a family recipe so obviously..."

"Not just any Simmons though," Fitz clarified cheerfully. He wasn't the best baker but he was happy Simmons had chosen him to share the recipe with.

"No, of course not," she agreed, "only Simmons who are related to my dad. And you of course but don't tell anyone." she held a finger to her lips.

"I won't," he promised, feeling the weight of her trust. "Are you sure you're dad won't mind though? Maybe you should..."

"We better get started then," she interjected, smiling nervously and sliding to the fridge to take out the butter.

Fitz wondered how long she was going to put off calling her parents but he decided to let it go for the moment.

"All right," he said enthusiastically, "What's first?"

Her smile switched from nervous to excited. "Welcome Fitz, to the journey towards the perfect strawberry pastry. Our pastries are blackberry but I think if I add just a bit less sugar it should be more or less the same result."

"Only strawberry," Fitz chirped.

"Yes, only strawberry," she chuckled. "My mum taught me how to cook, but my dad taught me how to bake." she began in her storytelling voice. "He's a chemist remember. When I was little he worked doing research for a toothpaste company and I use to think that meant baking toothpaste. He told me 'baking is chemistry where you get to eat the final product.' At the age of seven, I thought that sounded like a better deal than toothpaste."

Fitz listened contently and grinned as he pictured a tiny Simmons excited about eating homemade cookies. He liked it when his friend told stories like this. Whatever the story was about, her words always made it sound beautiful somehow. Unless, of course, it was about him doing something embarrassing.

"He told me the first step to baking is to make sure you have all your ingredients," she continued. "So I'm going to list off the rest and I need you to find them."

Fitz nodded, "Ready to go."

It was strange being second in command when he was so use to them being on the same level. He didn't mind it though because, after all, this was Simmons' recipe and the end result was delicious strawberry pastries.

She listed off the ingredients for the crust (which were top secret) and he scurried around the kitchen to retrieve them while she took out a mixing bowl, a spoon and instruments to measure with.

Simmons showed him how to put the ingredients together (the order was very important) and how long to knead the dough until it had just the right consistency. He watched her closely, trying to mimic her technique.

"Good job Fitz, you've really got the hang of it," she encouraged, examining his work. "Don't forget the flour though," she added, dusting a layer on top of his blob of dough.

"I'm good with my hands," he reminded her, pleased by her approval.

The dough was finished and they were placing it into the bowl to keep in the fridge while they made the filling when Ward appeared at the entrance to the kitchen.

They exchanged a glance before before striding over to him to block his entrance into the area.

"We need you to stay out of the kitchen for a bit," Simmons told him.

"Just until we finish with Simmons' secret recipe," Fitz insured him.

Ward's gaze darted back and forth between them. "Is that code for something I'm not suppose to know about?" he demanded.

"Not at all," Simmons replied.

"We're just making strawberry pastries," Fitz added. "You can have one once we're done. He can have one right Simmons?" he looked to his partner.

"Of course he can," she smiled at him and then Ward. "Of course you can. You just need to stay out of the kitchen until we make them."

"Why?" he asked, sounding slightly annoyed.

"It's a secret family recipe." they told him.

"You two are related...?" he wondered, seeming confused.

"No, no." Simmons said quickly and Fitz shook his head. "Fitz is just an honorary Simmons for the moment." she explained.

Fitz liked the sound of honorary Simmons. It sounded as if he'd done something noble and was being knighted for it. He hadn't really done anything though, except be Simmons friend. (And help her save herself from an alien virus, however he didn't think she was going to tell her parents about that.)

"So I can't come in?" Ward said.

"I'm afraid not." Simmons replied, shaking her head.

He sighed and crossed his arms but Fitz thought he looked almost amused. "Call me when you're done," he ordered, walking away.

"You can have some of my snacks," Fitz called after him, feeling a little guilty, "they're in my bunk."

"Thanks Fitz," he called back, sounding less irritated.

"He'll be happier when he tries one of our pastries," Simmons decided brightly, pulling Fitz back towards the counter.

He and Simmons returned to making the filling. She had him cut up strawberries while she mixed together the sugary sauce. The sauce smelled wonderful and she let him taste some of it on fresh spoon.

It was only a small part of the pastry but it was amazing. It may have been a bit too sweet but he suspected that would be counteracted by the tartness of the strawberries.

"This is incredible," he exclaimed and she beamed at him.

"Wait until you've tasted the whole thing," she chirped as he went back to chopping the fruit. "You'll never go back to boxed pastries again.

'Not that you'd ever let me,' Fitz joked to himself but he was looking forward to the finished product.

"All done?" she inquired, when he put down the knife and he nodded.

"Excellent," she clapped, "this next part's my favourite."

"We're going to mix the strawberries with the sauce?" he guessed, wondering why that was her favourite part. The dough kneading had been pretty fun.

She grinned knowingly at him. "Nope, but good deduction. There is one thing we need to do before that."

He tilted his head questioningly at her.

Her grin widened. "We need to taste a strawberry." she told him.

"Oh, ok." he agreed picking up a piece he'd sliced.

"Not like that," she laughed, taking the piece from him. She halved it using the knife and handed him one part. "First we dip them in the sauce," she instructed, "then we need to eat them at the same time. It needs to be the same time, that's important."

Fitz realized now why this was her favourite part. It didn't actually add anything to the finished product but it was a fun extra which made it so that the recipe became something you needed to share with someone. He was glad she'd decided to share it with him.

They dipped their halves in the sauce and Simmons counted down. "Three, two, one." Then they both popped the strawberries into their mouths.

The sauce was even more delicious with the strawberry. It was perfectly sweet now. He saw his delight reflected in his friend's face and decided that this was his favourite part too.

"Almost as good as the blackberry," she joked. "I'll have to make that one with you another time."

"OK," he said happily. More pastries and fun times with Simmons sounded like a good deal.

Together they mixed the strawberries with the sauce and then rolled the dough flat and cut it into slices to hold the filling. Simmons taught him how to fold them so that they were shaped like crescent moons and once their lunar army was finished they placed them on a baking sheet and into the oven. The kitchen soon filled with the pastries wonderful smell and Fitz mouth watered a bit as they passed the time playing crazy eights.

As they waited, Fitz thought about that terrifying day when he thought he was going to lose his best friend forever. He wasn't sure why he was thinking about it now. Maybe it was because he was enjoying spending time with Simmons and feeling grateful that she was still here. He may have also been reminded by Simmons' hesitation to call her family, he wasn't sure. Whatever the reason though he realized that he hadn't properly thanked her for what she'd done.

"I never thanked you," he said, suddenly serious as she changed the suit.

She raised her eyebrows, "For not letting you stuff yourself with poison?" she asked surprised.

"For risking you're life to save everyone, me included," he explained. "That was a brave thing, what you did for us. Stupid," he added hurriedly. "Don't ever do anything like that again! It was terrifying. But it was also very brave and... well...Thank you."

She smiled at him and reached over to squeeze his hand. "I know you'd do the same for me." she said.

He stared at her, taking in the shape of her face and the feel of her hand on his and remembering her smiling, bubbling voice as she showed him how to make strawberry pastries and he knew he would too.

* * *

Fun Background

Thanks again to everyone who liked, read or reviewed my other stories. I would bake pastries with you anytime :)

So this part may have been more fluffy than funny (the story is labelled humour) but I hope you still like it :)

The Fringe reference is that Simmons' dad is a chemist who works for a toothpaste company. Walter Bishop was a chemist and, though he actually worked for the US military, his cover was doing research for a toothpaste company.

I made her dad's recipe blackberry because strawberry would be a bit to convenient. (Although just the fact that they have a secret family pastry recipe is convenient enough haha)

I am thinking about adding one more chapter where they share pastries with everyone. yay, sharing!


	3. Chapter 3

Fitz bounced on his toes excitedly as Simmons removed the pastries from the oven, allowing them to rest on a cooling tray. He reached for one but she pushed his hand away, chuckling at him.

"You'll burn yourself," she warned.

"Fine," he agreed grudgingly, pouting at her for a moment before his puppy dog smile returned. "They smell delicious though, we should bring one to Ward... and Skye, I bet she'd be impressed with them."

"You haven't even tried one," Simmons mused. "How would you know?"

"Because we did them together," he told her, almost smug. "And, like you said, baking is basically chemistry, which you excel at, and folding the crust takes nimble fingers, which I have. We're a super team Simmons, everything we make is bound to be impressive."

He nodded confidently, raising his eyebrows and pushing his lips together while he crossed his arms, looking like someone stepping back to approve of their own work, which, she realized, he actually was.

"A super team," she laughed. "I like that, isn't that what you told me, when we first began working together?"

"And I was right," he said, grin widening.

"Well don't let your head inflate too much until we can try one," she teased, causing him to stick his tongue out at her.

She returned the gesture, glad that they'd been paired together all those years ago, glad that their rivalry had changed to a partnership that sparked into a slowly burning friendship. She hadn't chosen to show Fitz the recipe because he was her partner, or because she didn't want him to stuff himself with dangerous chemicals (though that had certainly affected the timing of her lesson) but because he was her friend and the person she trusted more than anyone else in the world.

When the pastries had cooled, they stacked them neatly onto a plate and skipped off in search of their friends. They found Ward first, in the sitting room already eating.

Simmons, held their plate of baked goods, wondering why Ward's snack looked so familiar. She received her answer when Fitz gasped and rushed forward, snatching it out of their teammate's hands and hurling it across the room.

"No, no, no!" He exclaimed, alarmed. "You mustn't eat that."

Ward was silent, appearing incredibly annoyed, hands frozen where they'd been holding the boxed pastry. Then his eyes darted to Fitz.

"What?" he asked, irritated.

"Those are very, very bad for you," Fitz explained seriously.

Simmons was struggling not to laugh at them. Biting down on her bottom lip and smiling despite her best efforts. Only a few hours ago, her friend had been ready to eat a whole box of pastries like the one which was now slowly sliding down the wall of the Bus, leaving a red streak of strawberry jelly on the off-white, and now he was yanking them out of people's hands. Silly Fitz. He really had made a mess though.

"Is this some kind of prank?" Ward wondered, not at all amused.

"No," she put in quickly, letting out an unhelpful giggle. "Fitz recently discovered that his favourite snack is-"

"Filled with poison, early grave, relatives wondering why you died so young, poison," Fitz finished, eyes wide.

"As oppose to other boxed foods?" Ward wondered flatly, glancing disapprovingly at the smear on the wall.

"This one's the worst of them," Fitz informed him, "I might have just saved your life."

"Sure..." he replied, irritation fading.

"You can have one of the ones we made," Fitz told him brightly, bouncing over to Simmons and taking a napkin from his pocket to place the pastry on before offering it their teammate. "Simmons' recipe is the best."

'You still haven't tried them,' Simmons mused silently.

"Thanks," Ward accepted, frown turning up into a small smile. He took a bite then added, "These are pretty good."

"Just don't ask for the recipe," Simmons grinned, kidding because Ward was well aware it was a secret.

"Yeah, yeah I know, if you told me you'd have to kill me," he joked back. At least she thought he was joking. For all she knew he actually had encountered recipes people would kill over.

She chuckled, wondering if she was meant to be laughing. "Haha... good one."

His expression didn't reveal much and she quickly stopped.

Fitz, oblivious to her awkwardness, slapped Ward's arm chumily, almost causing him to choke on the dessert. "Ward and I both know that you have to have a good sense of humour Simmons," he told her. "You know, with all the danger, you need a way to keep the darkness at bay."

She nodded, glad Fitz was making friends. She'd been a little worried, when they arrived on the Bus, that his minimal patience and short temper would stop the others from seeing his kind heart and... well his good sense of humour, but to her relief he was fitting in well, they both were. Their teammates even knew which of them was Simmons and which was Fitz now, though all except Skye still usually referred to them jointly as FitzSimmons.

They cleaned the mess and moved on, finding Skye in her room, leaning against the wall, so low she had to lift her head to see over the glowing screen of her laptop.

"Hey, watch'a got there," she asked, eyeing the pastries.

"We made a treat for everyone," Simmons told her cheerfully as Fitz, once again took one in a napkin to offer.

"You bake too?" Skye grinned. "Do you come travel sized?"

"Well we are on an airplane," Fitz pointed out.

"So we actually already are travel sized," Simmons reasoned.

Skye rolled her eyes, giggling. "I'll take a pair then. Hold the wise ass."

Simmons giggled with her and Fitz breezily took a seat next her before he seemed to realize that he was in a girl's room, a girl who wasn't Simmons, sitting on her bed, and blushed.

"Er... can I?" He inquired, a little late.

"Get your boy cooties all over my bed?" She teased, grinning mischievously. "I dunno-" he rose quickly and she pulled him back down. "Fitz I'm joking, relax," she laughed.

Simmons took a seat on her other side, and watched as she battled her way out a pit full of mutant spiders.

"Is that our Coulson?" Simmons wondered, pointing to the avatar bearing their leader's name fighting beside her.

"Yeah, AC always knows when I'm online," she told her, shaking her wrist to draw attention to the tag bracelet. "It's the one good thing about this stupid dog collar."

Simmons and Fitz exchanged a nervous glance, unsure what to say. Thankfully, she took a bit out of the pastry and they didn't have to say anything because her face lit up, previous statement forgotten.

"This is amazing guys!" She exclaimed. "How many do you have?" She checked the plate. "I'm telling Coulson you're coming with them," her fingers moved swiftly, fueled by years of practice, across the keys and their team leader sent her back a smiley face.

"He's excited," Skye informed them needlessly.

"Well we'd better not keep him waiting," Simmons decided, getting to her feet, Fitz close behind her.

"Bye Skye," "See ya," they called over their shoulders.

"Have fun," she waved before returning to her game.

When they reached Coulson's office, he too was on his computer, clicking the keys with noticeably less practice than Skye.

"I heard there were elves wandering the Bus with goodies," he greeted cheerfully. "Skye says they're amazing."

Fitz once again delivered a pastry, placing it beside him and he grinned as he took a bite.

"She wasn't wrong," he praised. "Do you think you give me the recipe?"

Simmons opened her mouth, ready to politely object, but Fitz beat her too it.

"Sorry sir," he denied loyally. "It's a secret Simmons' family recipe."

"But you're not-" he frowned, confused.

"I'm allowed to choose one non-Simmons to share it with," Simmons explained, bumping Fitz's shoulder affectionately.

"Oh, OK," Coulson accepted, as if Fitz were the obvious choice, which Simmons agreed he was. "Have you taken any to May? She loves strawberries- oh, shoot, damn spiders," he grumbled, returning his attention to the game. "I thought I paused it."

"You can't pause that one," Simmons explained. "You're playing with other people."

"And you can't pause people," Fitz elaborated.

"You two can," Coulson mumbled, referring to the night night gun, caught up once again in the game. "I'm sorry, do you mind if I continue... Skye already made it out and she's waiting for me."

"Of course sir," "Have fun," the answered, backing out.

They found May in the cock pit. "Two hours until we land," she told them.

"We weren't here about that," Simmons let her know.

"We brought you treats," Fitz chirped, collecting another to present to her. "Coulson said you liked strawberries."

She smiled at that. "Did he ask for the recipe?"

"It's a secret Simmons' family recipe," they answered together and May nodded.

"Ah, OK," she didn't question why Fitz was allowed to learn it, but Simmons guessed that she already knew.

Her eyes drifted wearily to the windows and she found herself taking a step back, away from the dizzying view.

"Simmons?" Fitz asked, concerned.

"It's... nothing," she assured him, forcing a smiled. "I'm just a bit... nervous... about heights, that's all."

He touched her shoulder comfortingly, smiling back. "It's OK to be nervous," he assured her.

"He's right," May put in, eyes on the controls. "Fear keeps you on your toes, keeps you safe, just don't let it consume you."

"I wont," Simmons promised, trying to look brave.

"I didn't think you would," May smiled and Simmons suddenly had the feeling that the legendary agent had began to like them.

That was good, they liked her too.

/-/-/

A while later, Fitz had finally tried the pastries (declaring that they were the best pastries in the entire world, the perfect flakiness and not too tart, not too sweet) and they were once again sitting in the kitchen, deep in discussion about what May had said.

Fitz was rambling, talking about everything that had happened since they'd joined the team and even through his false nonchalance, she could tell it had scared him.

"You don't have too do it you know," she blurted, the words out before she could stop them. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, if you'd rather not be here-"

"What?" he turned to her, puzzled. "When did I say I didn't want to be here?"

She raised her eyebrows at him. "'I was doing just fine tucked away in a safe, indoor, non-mobile lab at the academy. Then you had to go and drag us into this flying circus,'" she repeated, her imitation serious rather than teasing.

He turned away. "I didn't... I was just..."

"Do you want to be here?" She asked, searching the side of his face.

"Do you?" he questioned, turning back to her.

He was stalling, avoiding an answer, but she didn't push him because she was afraid of what that answer would be and where it would leave them.

"Yes," she told him without hesitation.

He shrugged. "Well, we're a team, so-"

"That's not good enough," she interrupted, surprising herself with the intensity of her statement. By the look on his face, she'd surprised him too. "I almost died Fitz, if Ward hadn't caught me, if you hadn't been there to help, if something, anything had gone differently, I might not be here now." His eyes grew bright, he didn't like what she was saying but he needed to hear it. "I almost died and... and you could too. So I can't... I can't be the only reason you're here," she finished, averting her gaze.

"It wouldn't be your fault if-" he soothed, touching her shoulder.

"That isn't it," she objected. "Well... it is, a bit," she admitted. She would feel guilty, if he died, was hurt, because he had followed her somewhere he didn't want to be. Though if anything happened to him it would be unspeakably awful anyway, whoever's fault it was, she knew it would crush her. "It's your life," she went on. "You need to live it the way you want to, not the way I do. So I think you need to answer the question, if not for me then for yourself. Do you want to be here?"

He met her gaze and she could tell he was thinking it over, trying to be honest with himself.

"I didn't... want to be here, not at the beginning," he finally said. "It was... scary... and there was a lot of pressure I didn't know if I could handle, didn't know if I wanted to handle. But you were here and I knew it would be worse to be anywhere without you."

She started to protest but he raised a hand, requesting she allow him to continue and she did.

"I never really belonged anywhere before, except with you," he smiled at her and she smiled back fondly. "I feel like I belong here though," he told her. "We're a team, not just you and me but all of us on the Bus, we-"

"-Fit," they said together, smiles widening.

"Yeah," he continued. "And we do so much good, together and I feel... like I'm a part of something, when I'm here."

She beamed at him, heart soaring because she felt the exact same way. "Me too," she agreed, relieved.

"And anyway," he added, beaming back. "I _want_ to be wherever you are. I like what we are together, we're a super team."

His words tugged at her heart, pulling it towards him and she gently placed her hand over his. "Me too," she said again.

/-/-/

* * *

haha, last chapter, finally. How many months later? I got distracted by some monster goo, then bumblebees... and so on. But here it is!

The Fringe reference is the line 'you don't have to do anything you don't want to do.' Olivia tells herself that in Jacksonville when she is forced to use her powers (which she is a little scared of) to save a bunch of people.


End file.
